


Never Again

by blackchaps



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nazis, Prison, Violence, author is over-dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I took a bunch of plot points from Season Four, threw them in the air, and went from there. Pretty!<br/>My apologies to Dick Wolf for stealing his lovely dialogue. See if you can spot it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

****

Toby clutched his head and sat up on his bunk, breathing hard and hoping that the night was over. It wasn‛t. It had barely begun. Darkness intermixed with pools of light and the glass seemed to shimmer. He put his hand to his chest and felt his heart beat too fast. His lungs slowed down, and his heart seemed to also. It wasn‛t a comfort, but he listened. His coronary muscle wasn‛t ready to quit yet. Didn‛t it realize that its pieces lay on the floor of his pod? Guess not.

‟Give up,‟ he whispered. ‟Just stop.‟

The rhythm didn‛t listen. It kept pounding out its message that life wasn‛t finished with him yet. He blew out a breath of air and prayed that whatever lay in his future it would be painless. Hadn‛t he suffered enough? Job didn‛t have anything on him. He‛d spend the rest of his days miserable, and the thought that he‛d earned every second of it couldn‛t be pushed away or denied. His life would be terminally gray, and as long as nothing else bad happened, he could survive. He could breathe in and out and occasionally smile. Not one more bad thing. Please.

Praying never helped. Said was wrong. Sister Pete was wrong. Toby would favor them with a small smile though and nod like the fool he was. Lately, he‛d taken to praying that someone would shank him and put him out of his fucking misery, but God never listened. Never. Asshole. He watched, but He did nothing.

Toby eased over to the sink to wet his hands and run them through his sweaty hair. His face stared back at him, and he looked again at the man he‛d become. He‛d shaved, but his hair was long enough to push back behind his ears. Eyes were still blue, but there was no spark inside them any longer. They were as dead as he was on the inside. He looked closer and decided it was true. His eyes did look dead - lucky little bastards. Slowly, he reached out and touched the mirror. He wasn‛t in there. He was out here.

‟Get on your bunk, Beecher.‟

Toby flinched, dropped his hand, and nodded. The hack - some new fucker - waited until Toby had settled again on the thin mattress. He shut the door and was gone into the dark. Toby didn‛t understand why it mattered. It wasn‛t as if he was bothering his non-existent podmate. No. He was alone with nothing but bad memories and the slight stench of death that seemed to hover over his head. Rolling over to his stomach, he buried his face in the pillow and refused to cry again. No more crying. Not ever. He‛d shed enough tears in this damn prison. They were wasted anyway. There was no one to brush them off his cheeks and tell him that things would be better tomorrow. No one to lie to him.

Wrapping his arms around his pillow, he made himself another promise, and this one he was going to keep. This one was forever. Never again. Simple enough really. Never again would he cry. Never again would he give one fuck, and never again would he look for something to make him feel good.

The damn lumpy mattress helped him resist sleep, but his thoughts slowed down, and he slept. He hated his dream self. Well, it was mutual, and tonight was no exception to the rule. Booze, severed hands, heroin, and too bright smiles that promised too much tormented him until the lights clicked on, and he bolted from bed. The wall came up fast, and he leaned against it, gathering the will to go on. He stumbled out for morning count, and when they were satisfied that none of them had tunneled to freedom in the middle of the night, he went back to get his towel. The sheet on his cot was soaked with sweat, and he‛d wash it again.

Another day in Oz began, and he hoped it would be his last.

********

Sister Pete pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She was tired. When she straightened her back, it crackled, and she was reminded that she wasn‛t young any longer. Her door opened, and Tobias shuffled inside. He didn‛t look at her or say a word. He went to his desk and began to work. She sighed, but very softly. He was so far past depressed that clinical pyschology didn‛t have a word for him, and really there was nothing she could do to help. She sure as hell wasn‛t talking to Keller about it. On reflex, she crossed herself and made a note to confess to cursing.

********

Toby didn‛t bother to look at the food on his tray. It wasn‛t as if he‛d be eating it. Poet took the stage and began a long-winded poem about the injustices of the white man, and Toby stopped listening quickly. Toby was the white man. Toby was the problem. His life of wealth and privilege was a slap in the Black man‛s face. One of them should have the balls to kill him. He could only pray it happened before lights out.

‟You gonna eat that?‟

He pushed the tray away, but kept the juice. Not looking at who had asked the question was the easiest way to get along. He drank the juice slowly and didn‛t join in the conversation. Querns was out. McManus was back. Blah, blah, blah. Did it make any difference who their keeper was? He highly doubted it. It wasn‛t as if the unit manager was paid enough to give a fuck about them as people. Not that any of these fuckers were people. He almost giggled, but shut it off.

‟Cupcake looks mighty sad, boys. Maybe we should cheer him up,‟ Schillinger said with his trademark asshole smile gleaming under the flourescent lights.

‟A good butt-fucking oughta do it!‟ Robson rubbed his crotch - what was left of it.

Toby didn‛t answer. Cursing, screaming, and trying to kill them would accomplish exactly nothing, so he did nothing. He drank his juice. Schillinger began a loud discussion about the attributes of Toby‛s ass, and he reminded himself of his promise. Never again. Never again would he care what Schillinger did or said.

‟Andy‛s still dead,‟ Toby said softly. ‟I miss him.‟

Schillinger grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him up to better hit him with his fist, but the hacks were there, and he strutted off after shoving him away. Toby sat back down and finished his juice. He did regret what happened to Andy. Toby had done it - killed a boy. But his boy was dead now. Schillinger and Toby weren‛t any where near even, and Andy and Gary were still dead. Nothing would change that. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard, letting the grief pour over him again.

‟Don‛t let the fucker mess with ya, Beech.‟

Toby bit the inside of his lower lip and opened his eyes. ‟Hey, O‛Reily. How‛s the kitchen?‟

‟Hot and dirty. You need something?‟ O‛Reily sniffed to get his message across.

‟No,‟ Toby said shortly. Nothing could take this pain away, and he wasn‛t going to waste his time trying.

O‛Reily nodded, his eyes darting about. ‟Ya think Hank will end up here?‟

Toby didn‛t want to think about it, but he was very certain that Schillinger‛s lawyer was pushing for it. ‟Don‛t give a fuck.‟

‟Keep saying it.‟ O‛Reily spotted something and shot away. Toby did no more than glance at him - talking fast to Keller - before staring again at nothing. Killing Hank wouldn‛t bring anyone back, but it was tempting. It wouldn‛t push the red, raw grief away, and for some reason, that didn‛t matter. Killing wasn‛t the solution. Toby pressed his fingernails into his hands and said it again and again.

********

‟Hey, Pancamo. Ya hear the news?‟

Chuck wiped the soap from his face, turned in the shower, and shook his head. ‟What?‟

‟Hank Schillinger got away scot-free for whacking Beecher‛s boy. Some sort of technicality.‟

‟No shit?‟ Chuck didn‛t pay attention to the rest of the shit coming out of his buddy‛s mouth. He grunted and shrugged in the right places and finished his shower. There was an opportunity here to make some fast cash.

********

Toby didn‛t even try to sleep. Hell, he didn‛t want to sleep. His dream self was waiting, and he had nasty plans for him tonight. He curled under his blanket though and wished he had the balls to strut and brag. Schillinger had killed his own son, shrugged it off, and kept on causing mayhem - the fuckwad. And here Toby was praying. Wimp, somehow, didn‛t seem to cover it.

The dark stabbed at him. So had the sympathy. People were sorry that Hank was on the loose. Well, they should be. Schillinger might send his psychotic son after their loved ones next. Hank might try to finish the job with Holly. Toby shuddered, stuffed his hands between his thighs, and prayed his father was smart enough to take her away - far away.

Hank needed to die. He did. No one was in his corner. Schillinger didn‛t count. Toby pressed his knees together tightly and blinked away a few tears that he didn‛t want to shed. Holly‛s future was at stake. She deserved a life, and after her mother and brother dying, she had to be as lost and alone as her father was. He, however, had earned this. She was innocent. His revenge and his futile attempt at redemption had reached out and struck her down along with his son.

Toby sighed deeply and wished again that someone would kill him. Was that asking so much? Adebisi might do it yet, but he did no more than glare from across the quad. Toby stared at the glass and tried very hard not to think. Not to think. No.

********

Keller paced, abandoning his bunk and any attempt to sleep. He‛d seen the devastation on Toby‛s face. Toby had walked around like a zombie for fucking days, but today he had just looked . . . agonized. It hurt. It hurt him, and he hated it. He should be down there, holding him and lying to him. Whispering that everything was going to be all right, when they both knew better. He grabbed the bunks and shook them.

‟Stupid fucker!‟

‟You wanta fight? Bring it, fucker!‟ Keller slapped the stupid bitch hard. That shut him up. Nothing mattered any longer but Toby‛s pain.

*********

Toby didn‛t go to work. Toby had a decision to make and looking at Sister Pete would make it harder, not easier. After morning count, Pancamo had cornered him. He was waiting for word. He‛d get the job done. Toby had no doubt about that. He traced his finger along the squares of the chess board and tried to think rationally. Saying yes was the only way to keep Holly safe, but Schillinger would know that Toby was behind it. Schillinger would kill him. Two good things and he would be done. No more him. She could have a life.

Toby heard Schillinger laughing before he saw him. Of course he was laughing. Laughing at Toby‛s pain. Nothing new there, but his son was dead. Toby saw Pancamo out of the corner of his eye and almost gave him the sign. What stopped him was Keller, stepping right in front of him.

‟I do not have the energy to deal with your trauma today.‟ Toby got to his feet and went towards the mail cart. He could feel Keller hot after him, but it didn‛t matter. ‟Schillinger, you‛ll pay for this.‟

Schillinger narrowed his stupid eyes. ‟A man with a beautiful daughter shouldn‛t be throwing around threats.‟

Toby was going to kill him. He was, but Keller grabbed him and thrust him away. ‟Toby! This ain‛t the time!‟

Toby didn‛t give a fuck about the time. He wanted his damn revenge now. Murphy joined Keller, and they herded him away.

‟Walk it off, Beecher.‟ Murphy meant it.

‟Fuck you,‟ Toby whispered. Toby shoved Keller away, and Pancamo was there.

‟Well?‟ Pancamo‛s dark eyes seemed to glitter. It was probably the thought of all his money going into his pocket. Toby wanted to scream yes, but if he did, Hank would be dead. Like Andy. Like Gary. Toby took a breath that was a sob and shook his head. His throat refused to push out even a single word.

‟Fucking wimp,‟ Pancamo taunted him.

His mind flew a hundred different directions, but his eyes only saw Vern‛s smirking face, and he suddenly knew what he wanted more than anything. ‟Right now. Beat the shit out of him. When you get out of the hole, I‛ll give you whatever you want.‟

Pancamo‛s eyes widened. ‟Whatever?‟

‟Anything - even my ass.‟ Toby meant it. ‟My word.‟

Pancamo looked up at the tower and Murphy. ‟Deal.‟

Toby found a wall to slump against. It was going to happen. Suddenly, Toby noticed Keller‛s hand on his arm. Toby was tempted to brush it away, but he didn‛t. He watched Pancamo wait until Schillinger and his little cart trundled under the archway. It was then that filthy Nazi blood sprayed the wall. Pancamo had two of his biggest goons do it, and Toby could hear bones cracking from where he stood with a very stupid grin on his face.

The SORT team had to break them up.

Keller shook him. ‟You‛re screwed.‟

‟Like I give a fuck.‟ Toby rubbed his face and ignored the shouts of lock down until he was forced away. A gurney arrived for Schillinger, and Toby could see blood. He took a deep breath. It wasn‛t payment enough, but he felt better than he had in days. The door to his pod locked, and he still watched. Yes, blood did wash away the sin - some of it at least.

*********

Murphy put his nightstick away and made sure there were no stragglers that needed to be put in their pod. Everyone was locked down, and they‛d stay that way until tomorrow.

‟Sean! What the hell happened?‟

‟Two of the Italians beat the crap out of Schillinger.‟ Murphy started up the stairs, but he knew McManus would follow him. ‟He‛s on his way to the hospital.‟

‟Will he live?‟

‟Probably. Not really a good idea having him deliver mail to this unit.‟ Murphy found his clipboard and started making notes. ‟He was laughing his ass off at Beecher.‟

McManus rubbed his chin. ‟You think Beecher paid them to do it?‟

Murphy looked sideways at him. ‟I ain‛t no brain surgeon, but that sounds smart to me.‟

‟Bring him to my office.‟

Murphy nodded. He‛d do it, but he hoped Beecher got off. Schillinger deserved more than a beating, and his son should have been sitting in the electric chair.

********

‟You paid them to do it, didn‛t you?‟

Toby fiddled with the cuffs and slumped as low as possible without sliding to the floor. ‟What are you trying to discuss, McManus?‟

‟I‛ll spell it out. You paid the Italians to beat him up.‟ McManus cleared his throat. ‟Not that I blame you, but I can‛t let it slide.‟

‟I didn‛t.‟ There was no way in hell he was admitting it. They‛d go after Pancamo next, if they already hadn‛t. ‟You have no proof. Nothing.‟

McManus tilted his head. ‟I‛m not an idiot!‟

Toby hadn‛t looked up from the cuffs that encircled his wrists, but now he did. ‟I watched him grow inside Genevieve‛s belly. I was there when he was born. They handed him to him, and I knew in that instant that I had been given charge of something incredibly fragile. He was so delicate.‟

‟Pancamo will give you up.‟ McManus wouldn‛t meet Toby‛s eyes.

‟Nothing to give up.‟ Toby leaned forward, took a pencil off the desk, and snapped it in half. ‟Just like that. Gone.‟

McManus sighed. ‟Sean, take him back. Get Pancamo.‟

Toby dragged himself back to his pod. Schillinger was nothing but a mass of bruises and broken bones, but it didn‛t bring his son back. Nothing would. Robson would come after him, and it didn‛t matter. So fragile. He‛d forgotten over the years. Time had eased the worry. He was such a fool.

********

Father Mukada tracked Keller down in the gym. ‟Chris? May I speak to you for a moment?‟

Keller - his chest shining with sweat - grinned. ‟Sure, padre.‟

‟I know this is a delicate question, but have you forgiven Tobias?‟ Father Mukada had no illusions about the depravity of his flock here in Oz, but in Keller there was a flicker of hope, of redemption.

Keller slicked some sweat off with his hand. ‟For trying to kill me? For thinking I killed his boy? Why the fuck should I?‟

‟He needs help or I‛m very afraid for his future.‟ Father Mukada knew that encouraging a homosexual relationship was a sin, but God was love, and whether Keller knew it or not, he loved Beecher.

Keller looked away, shrugged, and sat down on the weight bench. ‟He don‛t need me.‟

‟He needs you more than ever. Love is a rocky road, Keller, not a walk on the beach.‟ Father Mukada had said far too much, and he turned away before he had to deal with Keller‛s reaction. The words would have to be enough, and he would do penance for them later.

********

Toby skipped work again. Instead, he ducked under the stairs, tucked his back into the corner, and hid from the world. No tears though. The gray walls were silent, and they wrapped him tight in their cold embrace.

‟Anyone seen Beecher?‟ That was Murphy.

Toby wrapped his arms around his legs.

‟No. Why?‟ Mineo.

‟He‛s scheduled for a visitor today.‟

Toby surged to his feet. There was nothing more important than telling his father to run and hide. Nothing. He‛d go to work so they didn‛t arbitrarily take the privilege away from him. Sister Pete looked up when Toby slid in the door. She frowned.

‟I‛d given up on you.‟

Toby couldn‛t even muster a shrug. ‟Lost track of time.‟ It wasn‛t much of lie. Sliding into the numbness of his grief made the day pass in jerks and starts.

Sister Pete came to him and put a kind on his shoulder. ‟Your father wants to see you today.‟

Toby patted her hand. ‟Thank you.‟ It was all he could say. She seemed satisfied, going back to her desk, and he found the strength to type.

‟They transferred Schillinger to Benchley Memorial. Dr. Nathan says that he‛s going to lose that eye,‟ Sister Pete said so softly.

‟An eye for an eye,‟ Toby whispered, ‟until the whole world is blind.‟

Sister Pete made a soft sound but whether in denial or agreement was anyone‛s guess. There was no satisfaction in the revenge he had taken on Schillinger‛s body. None. It was hollow, like him. There‛d be more blood spilt between them. It was his turn now. The words ‛arch enemies‛ in the dictionary had their pictures next to it. Being dead was the only real solution, and he refused to run from it any longer.

‟Will you forgive Keller?‟

Toby looked at her now and deep in her eyes he saw hope. The hope that Toby would hate him forever. She also knew about holding a grudge. ‟Don‛t you have it backwards?‟

‟No. You begged for his forgiveness and he turned away from you.‟ She made a funny face as if his begging was distasteful to her. ‟He let you down.‟

Toby nearly laughed at her interpretation of the events. She was as fucked up as he was, and she doesn‛t know it. Slowly, he managed to say with a straight face, ‟Does it matter since he won‛t speak to me?‟

‟It matters.‟

Toby opened the next file and focused on that. It would help the time pass until he could see his father.

*********

‟What is it, Keller?‟ McManus glanced up but went right back to his paperwork. He was saying no to whatever it was.

‟Can I move back in with Beecher?‟ Keller sat down in the chair with a small thump. ‟I worry he‛s gonna hurt himself.‟

‟He probably will.‟ McManus put his pen down and looked at him. ‟You won‛t make it better.‟

‟I sure as fuck know that, but at least there‛ll be someone there to get a hack when he offs himself.‟ Keller didn‛t smile.

McManus waited for him to grin or act like an idiot. He didn‛t. Interesting. McManus thought about it. If anyone could save Beecher from himself, it was Keller. Unless they killed each other. ‟Are you sure you want to involve yourself with him again? He might get you killed.‟

‟I ain‛t scared of that.‟

McManus saw the truth. ‟Get moved. One fight and I‛ll put you in solitary until you‛re fifty.‟

Keller nodded and went out the door quickly. McManus sighed and went back to his paperwork. There was more of it every year. There was no money for programs to reform anyone, but plenty of cash to make forms for him to fill out.

********

Toby clasped his daughter to his chest and sat down quickly before he fell down. The brilliant color of her hair and the sweet smile on her face pushed back the grayness that was his life.

‟Daddy!‟

Toby smiled and kissed her. Some small part of him was glad he hadn‛t killed Hank. The other ninety percent wanted to gut him like a fish and laugh. His father looked worried - his eyes tired. He stayed slightly back the entire visit. It was only at the end that he spoke quietly.

‟What should we do?‟

‟Run.‟ Toby held her tightly. ‟Run as far as you can. Don‛t write. Don‛t call. In a year, find a lawyer to come see me. We‛ll know better then if it‛s safe.‟

‟Toby. You‛ll be alone.‟

‟I always am.‟ Toby looked him right in the eye. ‟If you love her, you‛ll run. I can‛t do shit in this place.‟ Except get her killed, like he had Gary. But he bit those words back. The grief for Gary was still on his father‛s face, and it tore at him like the sharpest shank.

His father took her from him. ‟Goodbye. We love you.‟

‟I know. Give Mother my love.‟ Toby kissed and hugged them both one more time, and they were gone. He prayed they made it out of the building in one piece. More prayer was in his future.

********

O‛Reily watched Keller move back in Beecher‛s pod. Seemed like a mistake to him. Beecher was on the edge of killing someone, and it might be Keller. Those two were like matches and gasoline. Sooner or later, there was gonna be a fire.

‟Keller‛s nuts,‟ Hill said quietly.

O‛Reily went off to make a book. He‛d take all bets on how long it was until they had a major fight. And if McManus sent them to the hole. And if they had sex tonight. Yep. There was money to be made here.

********

Toby bounced when he hit the floor. His ass was going to feel that in the morning. Right on the old swastika.

‟Gonna fucking kill you, Beecher!‟

Toby was in no rush to get to his feet. Murphy and his boys had Robson wrapped up. They dragged him away, cursing and yelling. Toby used his shirt to wipe the blood off his mouth. Pancamo made a sharp gesture, and Toby walked over to him. He was ahead of him in the lunch line, but no one said a fucking word as he cut to the front.

‟After dinner, meet me by the laundry room.‟ Pancamo put him in line right behind him. ‟Got it?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby wanted to sink into the floor. ‟Your guys okay?‟

‟No problem.‟ Pancamo got his tray, and Toby got his. Toby did wonder if he‛d be carrying Pancamo‛s, but he didn‛t hand it to him. ‟Will it be worth it?‟

‟Yes.‟ Toby hesitated, but he didn‛t think their arrangement included them sitting together. He went to his usual seat by Rebadow. He pushed the food around and managed to eat the green beans, but nothing else. The flat taste of blood in his mouth made it easier than usual to skip eating.

Keller plunked his tray down next to him. ‟You‛re in deep shit. Need help getting out?‟

‟No.‟ Toby did wonder why the only man in this joint that professed to hate him as much as Schillinger did was offering though. ‟Kill anyone lately?‟

Keller laughed, but it was Said that Toby was watching. Said looked at him, and his eyes shone with disappointment - as usual. Toby had let him down. He wasn‛t sure he remembered when, but he had. If Said knew about the Italians, Toby was sunk. With a small shake, he realized that he didn‛t care any longer. Said would always be Toby‛s friend, but his ideas about life were his own.

‟You are making grave mistakes, my friend,‟ Said said in his deep voice.

‟I know, and if I‛m lucky, they‛ll see me dead.‟ Toby looked right in Said‛s dark, dark eyes. ‟Thank you for your concern, but cast me aside. I‛m dead to you.‟

Keller choked on something. Toby ignored it. Said frowned. ‟You were on the path!‟

Toby measured his answer. ‟Your path. Not mine. My life and death lie elsewhere.‟ Almost against his will, Toby looked at Keller. His hand clenched Toby‛s thigh. ‟Not necessarily with you, fuckwad.‟ By the time Toby checked back with Said, he was gone. Toby was glad. The last thing he needed was someone who gave a shit about him.

‟Beech, you got a fucking minute for me?‟

Toby peeled Keller‛s fingers off his thigh. ‟No. I don‛t need you reminding me that I ruined your life too. Be glad you‛re not dead. My son is!‟

Keller glared. He opened his mouth to say something, but Toby refused to listen. He abandoned his tray and headed for the laundry room. There was a debt to make a payment on.

*********

Said watched his friend storm away. Beecher was not in his right mind. The death of his son had driven him to make grave decisions, but he was not beyond help. Turning away from him was not an option. Said had a duty to Beecher‛s soul. Keller shot him a grin, but he refused to rise to the bait. Beecher was too smart to return to Keller. It had to be true.

********

Pancamo made it short and sweet. ‟For the next ten minutes, I need Murphy in the tower.‟

‟He makes his rounds now,‟ Toby muttered to himself. ‟Okay. On it.‟ He wasn‛t going to ask a bunch of stupid questions. None of it mattered. Pancamo gave a satisfied nod, and Toby went to keep Murphy busy. It‛d be easy. His face hurt, and he had enough complaints to last a lifetime, much less ten minutes.

‟We ain‛t discussing your new podmate,‟ Murphy said belligerently.

Toby pulled up short. Keller‛s hand squeezed him again. ‟You put him back with me?‟

Murphy lowered his head. ‟Stop screaming like a little girl!‟

Toby tried to find a deep breath and couldn‛t. ‟He hates me,‟ he whispered and hunched over. ‟He‛ll kill me!‟

Murphy shot him a funny look. ‟You really give a shit?‟

There was no denying that little bit of truth. ‟No. I don‛t. Thanks for reminding me.‟ Toby put his hand on his sore face. ‟What the hell am I going to do about Robson? That is, if Keller doesn‛t off me.‟

‟Should‛ve thought of that earlier.‟ Murphy shrugged. ‟You need an ice pack?‟

Toby nodded and tried to look pitiful. It did hurt, but he‛d had worse. ‟Tell me, please. My father and daughter made it out of Oz safely, right?‟

Now Murphy looked sympathetic. ‟Come on. I‛ll escort you to the hospital, and we‛ll talk about it.‟

‟Thanks,‟ Toby said softly. Refusing to consider who Pancamo was murdering or assaulting was frighteningly easy. Any other day, it might have been him, but he‛d sold his soul to the Italians for some revenge that might eventually get him killed. The fact that he was good with it made him worry about his sanity - again.

It was a half an hour before Murphy and Toby returned to Em City, and he sank down in front of the television with his ice pack to stare mindlessly at the television until count. His thoughts bounced between his family - away safely - and the fact that Keller was going to be in his pod. Toby adjusted the ice pack a little and tried to understand it, but couldn‛t. Keller hated him, and Toby didn‛t blame him.

‟Pancamo wants to talk to you in his pod,‟ someone said softly in his ear. ‟Now.‟

Toby nodded and got to his feet. It seemed that he was going to be at Pancamo‛s beck and call until someone shanked him. ‟What ‛cha need, boss?‟

Pancamo smoothed a comb through his hair. ‟That‛s what I like about you, Beecher. You ain‛t some dummy.‟

‟I could argue that.‟ Toby didn‛t sit down, but leaned against the wall. The fact that Pancamo was calling the shots rested easily between them.

‟Ya did a good job with Murphy.‟ Pancamo crossed his arms. ‟You worried?‟

‟No.‟ Toby wasn‛t. Being worried would mean he gave a shit about what went on in this damn prison, and he didn‛t. ‟I was a lawyer - used to getting my hands dirty. I am curious. Is this going to be a long-term relationship or do you want a large amount of cash dumped into your bank account?‟

Pancamo never really smiled. He cocked his head a little. ‟What makes you think it‛s one or the other?‟

‟Excellent point.‟ Toby was good with that. ‟I do hope you get your use out of me quickly because Robson is going to shank me, and Killer Keller is bunking in my pod.‟

‟I spoke with Keller, and the Nazis are out of the picture.‟ Pancamo shrugged. ‟I own your ass.‟

Toby shrugged back at him. ‟My grandfather was Italian.‟ For some perverse reason, he wasn‛t scared, not one damn bit. The threat of death had absolutely no hold on him. ‟We called him Poppi.‟

‟No shit?‟ Pancamo‛s eyes widened briefly.

‟Francisco Natalini - on his mother‛s side. She has the look of him. I take after my father‛s side. They were German.‟ This conversation bordered on the ludicrous, but really, what else did he have to do?

‟Well, damn.‟ Pancamo suddenly barked a laugh. He brushed his hair back with his hand. ‟Guess you‛re with us - a junior associate.‟

Toby didn‛t think arguing about it would be healthy. They would afford him a measure of protection. It was just that they might get him killed. Oh, well. One shank or the other. What the hell did it matter? ‟How much?‟

‟Nothing for now. McManus is watching. Later.‟ Pancamo opened the door and went out. Toby followed him like a good dog. He slapped hands with his goons, and Toby stayed out of it. ‟Beecher‛s with us.‟

‟He ain‛t earned his bones.‟

Toby didn‛t want to either.

Pancamo gave one of those typical Italian hand gestures. ‟What? You want his ass?‟

The fucker looked him over. ‟I ain‛t a fucking queer!‟

Toby heard so many lies in that short sentence, but it seemed they wanted him to schlep for them, not fuck them. Well, it wasn‛t like he was busy doing anything else, and it would give him some jizz. He needed a change. Poppi would be proud. The horn rang for count, interrupting, and he went to his pod, but not quickly. His life in Oz had certainly changed in the last week. Sister Pete was going to have a coronary when word got around, and it would.

Toby tossed Murphy the warm ice pack when he went past. They read numbers and names, and he went in after Keller. No rush. If his heart was beating a little fast, it was from fear, not the sight of Keller‛s beautiful ass. Shit. He was pathetic. His son was dead. His life was ruined, and he was praying again. Praying that Keller forgave him. Held him. Lied to him.

*********

Gloria went to check on Schillinger one last time before she went home. He‛d been transferred back to Oz after his surgery. He could recover here.

‟How are you feeling?‟

‟Like shit, you dumbass nigger!‟

She looked over his chart and marked him down for an enema in the morning. ‟I‛m glad you feel better. Your leg will heal with no problem, and the antibiotics we have you on will counter any infection. You‛ll be out of here in no time.‟

‟Are you through playing doctor, little girl?‟ Schillinger never knew when to shut up. She did a cursory examination. He glared. ‟What about my eye?‟

‟It‛s gone. The state will not pay for a glass eye. You can wear a patch or come up with the money for the prosthetic. If you do, I‛d be happy to assist in the proper fitting.‟ Gloria made sure the corners of her mouth stayed down. ‟There was just too much damage.‟

‟God damn it to hell!‟ Schillinger put his hand on his face.

She gestured to one of her nurses. ‟Don‛t forget his restraints and cut his pain med in half.‟

The nurse nodded. Gloria updated the chart and ignored the rest of Schillinger‛s bullshit. She had to give the Italian‛s credit - they knew how to hurt a man.

*********

Toby didn‛t have to put his hand on his chest to know that his heart had sped up and was now racing out of control.

‟You‛re working for the fucking Italians now, huh?‟

‟I don‛t really have a choice in the matter. I thought they‛d prefer cash.‟ Toby tried to shrug as if he didn‛t care, which he didn‛t.

Keller smirked. He did too much of that. ‟Big career move.‟

Toby heard the insult clearly. Working for the Italians was a step up from Oz slut. ‟Not everyone can be a murderer like you.‟ Except that he was, and Keller knew it.

‟You sure Pancamo isn‛t after your ass?‟ Keller sat down on his bunk and looked right at him.

‟He can have it.‟ Toby meant that. A deal was a deal after all. He still hadn‛t taken more than three steps inside the pod. It seemed so small. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide, and Keller‛s blue eyes saw right through him. He shivered. ‟You killed those men for your own purposes. It was never about me. You know how I know that? Because if it had been about love, you‛d have gone after Vern. But no, he gets a fucking free pass.‟

Keller narrowed his eyes. ‟Vern‛s been sniffing around you?‟

The tone of outrage was easy to hear, and Toby realized that Keller would never understand. He would kill Shemin over a blowjob, but he wasn‛t going to avenge him for past wrongs. It wasn‛t how he thought. Toby looked out the glass and happened to see McManus staring at them. McManus had allowed them back in the same pod. What did he expect to happen?

‟I don‛t know why I‛m talking you.‟ They hadn‛t had a civil conversation since he‛d tried his best to kill him. Usually, Toby was glad he‛d failed. Keller gave out a grunt that sounded exasperated. For some reason, Toby‛s heroin warped brain flashed back to those days right after Keller had pushed him on his ass. Ten days without one word. Not one. Well, they could do that again. Toby pushed off his shoes and climbed on his bunk. His book was under the pillow, and he got it out to stare blankly at the squiggly lines.

Keller said nothing, but his mere presence was enough to make him want to cry. Toby kept telling himself that the well was dry. That there were no more tears behind his eyes, but it was another lie. Never again. Never again would Toby hold him and have a simple feeling of joy in another human being that he loved. It was tainted now with too much death. Perhaps it didn‛t bother Keller.

‟I missed you,‟ Keller said softly.

‟With your busy schedule of snapping necks, I‛m surprised you found the time,‟ Toby blurted. 

Keller had once told him that he was nothing but a piece of shit, and he‛d done his best to convince him of it. The bunks shifted, and Keller put his hand on Toby‛s thigh. Toby knew better than to attempt to brush it away. He didn‛t hurt him though, and Toby found himself staring deep into those damn eyes. More emotions than he could put name to surged through him, and he wanted to hate him, but couldn‛t.

‟You are a better man than I am,‟ Keller said, his eyes glinting.

Toby didn‛t feel superior. All he felt was lost. ‟You gave up on me. Can‛t you stay gone?‟ He knew his voice was perilously close to a whine.

‟I tried.‟ Keller looked down. His hand slid up and cupped him. ‟Since we‛re both miserable, we might as well do it together.‟

Toby wanted to refute that. He wanted to slap him. A cold, rational part of his brain warned him not to encourage him. It would end badly - again. But he never listened. ‟I am sorry.‟

‟I know.‟ Keller said nothing about forgiving him. Toby knew in his gut that Keller never would. Oh, Keller probably didn‛t mind Toby trying to kill him - again. But him thinking that Keller had killed Gary was unforgiveable. After all they‛d shared? Sure, Keller was a killer, he‛d spent considerable time convincing Toby of it lately. But a child? Toby‛s child? Never. Keller wouldn‛t do it. Toby knew that now that he was in a somewhat sane state of mind.

There was a smack on the glass, and Keller took his hand off him. He went to the sink, and the hack kept moving. Toby was glad that the touch was gone. He sure as fuck didn‛t need any feeling that resembled happiness. Sighing deeply, he put his book away and turned his back to him. Staring out the glass, he counted again all the ways he‛d fucked up his life. This time, he started in sixth grade.

********

Cyril watched them. He didn‛t understand why they argued, but it made him sad. They had seemed so nice together, and then things had gotten so mixed up. It didn‛t make sense. At least they weren‛t shouting any longer. He hated that.

‟Who ya looking at?‟

‟Toby.‟ Cyril smiled. ‟I like him.‟

‟If he‛s getting mixed up with the Italians, we better stay away from him.‟

Cyril didn‛t understand his brother, but he nodded. Toby was nice. He should smile more.

********

The lights clicked off, and Toby got down to brush his teeth. He had serious doubts as how he was going to remain sane trapped in a pod with Keller. The toothpaste tasted like shit in his mouth, and he barely managed to keep from dry heaving. He shucked off his clothes, hung them on the hook, and turned around. Keller was right there. The smell of him invaded his nostrils, and Toby pulled his head back.

‟I‛ll get to Vern.‟ His eyes were dark pits.

Toby wanted to spit on him. ‟Why Shemin? Why?‟

Keller shook his head. ‟You know.‟ He took a step. Toby wanted to hit him. Keller probably knew it, but he didn‛t back up. ‟Toby, you need to take a deep breath and get your shit together.‟

There wasn‛t any air in his lungs at all. Keller had sucked it all out of the pod. He‛d killed Shemin in a jealous rage, and Toby had done his part to encourage it. He wasn‛t blameless in that death. He groaned very softly and put his hand on Keller‛s chest.

‟Chris, I‛ve lost everything.‟

Keller‛s heart beat slow and steady. ‟You ain‛t lost it all. You have a daughter, a son, and you‛re going to get out - matter of time.‟

The soft, measured words hit him hard. Toby had three things that Keller didn‛t. All his life he‛d been a selfish bastard. But his son. His son! It ripped at him. He took a deep breath, and it actually hurt. Tears that he refused to shed burned behind his eyes. He dropped his hand and sank to the floor. How he ended up in Keller‛s lap was a mystery, but the hand in his hair comforted him like nothing else could. Minutes drifted away, and they ended up on the bottom bunk together, but Toby refused to love him. Keller didn‛t ask for it either. Sleep seemed impossible, but it finally crashed into him, and Toby knew nothing until the lights clicked on.

Keller was at the sink, and he didn‛t meet Toby‛s eyes. The door pushed open, and Murphy came halfway inside, frowning and looking pissed off.

‟Beecher, that ain‛t your bunk.‟

Toby rubbed his face and stumbled up. Just straightening his back seemed to take forever. ‟I passed out.‟

Keller shrugged. ‟I got him on the lower, but no way in hell I was putting him on top.‟

Murphy raised his eyebrows. ‟Tits again?‟

Toby wiped his mouth. ‟Lack of sleep.‟

‟Right.‟ Murphy rolled his eyes. ‟No problems. You two hear?‟

They both shrugged again, and Toby quickly washed his face before morning count. He went back inside to find more clothes, but Keller walked away. He probably had business - killing people was a tough job. Toby didn‛t want to know any more of the truth than he did. Guesses meant nothing. Shower today. Work, shower, library, same old shit: and he thought hell must be like this.

‟Beecher, let‛s talk over breakfast.‟ Pancamo held the door open.

Toby didn‛t protest. He‛d made this bed, now he‛d lie in it. Everyone in the cafeteria noticed his promotion, and he was tempted to smile and wave, but it all seemed so stupid.

‟How much you got in the bank here?‟

Toby sat down across from him and opened his milk. ‟About a thousand.‟ His money situation was going to be a problem. ‟There won‛t be any more. My parents left town with my daughter.‟

‟They ain‛t gonna call?‟

‟With Hank Schillinger on the loose? Fuck no. I told them to run like hell and not look back.‟ Toby glared right at him so he‛d know it was the truth. ‟You can have what I got.‟

Pancamo frowned. ‟You said anything!‟

‟It‛s not like I can get to the bank.‟ Toby chewed the inside of lower lip and thought frantically. ‟I could call my lawyer. He‛d be willing to make some transactions for me.‟

‟He sure as fuck better.‟ Pancamo backed off a little. ‟Later, I want you to make some deliveries.‟

‟Sure.‟ Toby didn‛t worry about it. If he was searched and sent to the hole, at least it‛d be quiet there. Pancamo seemed satisfied and began quizzing one of his goons. Toby happen to see Keller giving him the eye. He got to his feet. ‟Later.‟

‟Stop by my pod before work.‟

Toby nodded, picked up his tray, and went to sit by his podmate. ‟What?‟

Keller stroked his hand down Toby‛s thigh. ‟What do they want?‟

‟I‛ll probably deliver some drugs, beat up a few people, and do my best to look tough.‟ Toby raised his eyebrows. ‟Why?‟

‟It ain‛t safe. He‛ll get you whacked.‟ Keller glared.

‟Like you care.‟ Toby glared right back at him. ‟Hey, I made a deal. It wasn‛t like you were volunteering to help me out.‟

‟Fuck me!‟ Keller was loud. He grabbed his tray and left. Fuck him. Toby wrapped myself in the fact that he didn‛t give a damn and ate a little food. When Pancamo left, Toby followed him.

O‛Reily stopped him in the hallway. ‟You a greaseball now?‟

‟It‛s a bump up from Nazi prag.‟ Toby smiled falsely at him. ‟I will need something for my hair.‟

‟You‛re fucking up, Beech.‟ O‛Reily bounced on his toes.

‟Look, asshole. I‛ve been fighting Nazis for years now. Did you ever give me a hand? Fuck no. Oh, you were willing to get me high, but no muscle.‟ Toby pushed his finger into O‛Reily‛s chest. ‟So fuck off.‟

‟They‛ll use you and kill you.‟

‟Like I give a fuck.‟ Toby refused to believe that O‛Reily gave a damn about anyone but Cyril. O‛Reily pushed him back and strutted off. Chances were good that O‛Reily was right, and it didn‛t matter.

*********

Alvarez delivered all the meals except one.

‟Hey, you dirty spic! Where‛s my fucking breakfast?‟

Alvarez flipped him off and threw the food out. He hated putas like Beecher, but Schillinger had killed a child - un nino. The fucker could starve.

Dr. Nathan pulled him aside after the meal was over. ‟Make sure he gets lunch.‟

‟I ain‛t on duty then.‟ Alvarez spat in the trash can. ‟He needs a fucking gag.‟

Dr. Nathan raised her eyebrows and went back to work. Alvarez grinned. She hadn‛t said no.

********

The delivery was simple. An Italian from Unit B bumped into him outside of Sister Pete‛s office, and Toby made sure the drugs ended up in the right pockets. Pancamo claimed that it was too dangerous to pass drugs in the cafeteria. Toby didn‛t bother to roll his eyes. This was ridiculous.

‟You ain‛t one of us. Don‛t think you are.‟

‟Pancamo owns my ass,‟ Toby said quietly. That seemed to satisfy him, and Toby went to work. Sister Pete wasn‛t there, and he was glad. It gave him a minute to sit quietly and think about Keller. He hadn‛t even tried to seduce him. He‛d held him. Of all the fuckers he‛d known in prison, Keller was the only one that was impossible for him to understand. The forces that drove him were a mystery. With no hope of parole, what did he live for? And what did he want from him? They‛d never have a life together. He‛d be here, and Toby would be dead or living with his parents. That is, if Hank didn‛t find them and kill them first.

‟You‛re early today!‟

Toby looked up. ‟I needed a quiet minute.‟ He opened the first file and the computer booted up.

She smiled and came close to stand over him. ‟Tell me what‛s going on.‟

Toby nearly groaned. ‟No,‟ he said shortly. ‟It‛s all fucked up, and I‛m too tired.‟

‟Did you really pass out?‟ Sister Pete frowned.

‟Yes.‟ It wasn‛t really a lie. Any night that he didn‛t dream, he assumed he was unconscious from fatigue. ‟I don‛t sleep enough.‟

‟Your body just shut down.‟ She nodded. ‟You could ask Dr. Nathan for something.‟

Toby knew that was hopeless, so he redirected the conversation. ‟For some reason, the thought of Schillinger being tended to by a black doctor makes me smile.‟

Sister Pete went to her desk and sat down. ‟He hates everybody.‟

No one knew that better than him. He typed and was glad that she didn‛t want to quiz him about his mistakes today. When his time was up, he had a question for her. ‟Sister Pete, are you ever going to forgive Keller?‟

‟For what?‟ Her eyes dared him to say anything more about it.

‟He needs your help.‟

‟He doesn‛t have the capacity to need anyone.‟ She leaned back in her chair. ‟Don‛t fall into his trap again.‟

Toby slowly got to his feet. ‟Sister, I‛m only going to say this once - you‛re only hurting you. He expects you to hate him. He probably arranged it so you would.‟

She shook her head. ‟Some men are lost. He‛s one of them. Tobias, are you in debt to the Italians?‟

‟Why? You got some cash?‟ Before she said anything further, Toby beat it out the door. The lunch horn rang before he got to Em City, and he decided to skip it. Keller was leaning against the bricks under the archway. He might have been waiting for him. Toby look him over from top to bottom. How he managed to make his scruffy clothes look sexy was a mystery.

‟Hey.‟ Toby leaned against the wall next to him. ‟Got a cig?‟

‟I wish.‟ Keller stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‟You saying that if I had beat up Vern, you‛d have been my bitch?‟

Toby had to laugh. When he stopped, he said mildly, ‟I might have fallen to my knees and proclaimed my undying love. We‛ll never know, will we?‟

‟Shit,‟ Keller mumbled. ‟Beech, I ain‛t always the sharpest tool in the shed.‟

That was Keller‛s way of saying that he‛d needed him to push him to do it. Ask him. Beg him. Frankly, Toby would rather owe his ass to the Italians. ‟I wonder what‛ll happen to Hank now.‟

Keller gave him a steady look. ‟Don‛t really matter. You and Schillinger are still here.‟

It was hard to refute that truth. ‟Well, it‛s Schillinger‛s turn to fuck me up now.‟

‟He‛s gonna have to get through me.‟ Keller pushed away from the wall. He started walking, and Toby was tempted to let him go alone. There was no comfort in the words that Keller had said. He usually wasn‛t around, and Schillinger would find a way. Toby went, and lunch was the same old shit, and he didn‛t bother with a tray. He grabbed a juice and sat down by Rebadow.

‟Robson is looking for you,‟ Rebadow said.

‟Peachy.‟ Toby grinned. Rebadow raised his eyebrows, but said nothing else. Busmalis whispered something in Rebadow‛s ear, and Toby opened his juice. Keller sat down as close as humanly possible without actually being on Toby‛s lap. Toby sighed and wiggled away. ‟Chris, give me an inch, will ya?‟

Keller licked Toby‛s ear. ‟Say my name again like that.‟

Toby didn‛t protest further. Some part of his brain refused to believe that Keller was back in Toby‛s corner, his pod, his life. He‛d give it a week - tops. Then he‛d be gone again, like Gary. Toby shut his eyes for an instant and let the grief break over him again. He also felt a renewed sense of guilt for having imposed this grief upon Schillinger. He‛d done it callously, without any thought of the future. His Gary had paid the price, and the tremendous anger he felt was tempered by the knowledge that he‛d set the ball in motion. Him. His fault.

‟I signed up for the gym after lunch,‟ Keller said.

Toby reluctantly opened his eyes and faced his shitty life again. ‟Have fun.‟

Keller grinned. ‟Fuck, Toby. You used to like to go to the gym with me.‟

‟I‛m smarter than I used to be.‟ Toby didn‛t believe that, but it was something to say. A rush of movement from the corner of his eye, and Toby had no time to do anything. Keller, however, didn‛t hesitate. He shoved him under the table and took the blows that were meant for him. Toby grunted, banged his head on the table, and someone kicked the shit out of him.

‟Fucking Nazis!‟ That was Pancamo. He hated Nazis? Toby crawled out the end of the table into more chaos than he‛d ever seen in the lunchroom. Jumping up on a bench, Toby launched himself at Robson, who had Keller down in a chokehold.

‟Fucker! Get the fuck off him!‟ Toby hit him over and over again, trying his best to kill him with nothing but his bare fists and his pent-up anger. Spit dribbled from his mouth as if he were a rabid dog, and he was dismayed at the exultation that proved to him again that he was nothing but an animal. Keller‛s grin flashed in front of his eyes, and then . . . black.

*********

Mineo unbuttoned his shirt, starting at the bottom after pulling it out. He sighed deeply. Another long day but it was over.

‟Did they get you?‟

‟Nah.‟ Mineo didn‛t think so, but he might feel it in the morning. He wasn‛t as young as he used to be. ‟That Beecher ain‛t a pussy any longer.‟

Howell laughed. ‟Robson needs to protect the rest of his dick and leave Beecher alone!‟

They laughed softly. Mineo slipped into a clean T-shirt and tucked it in. ‟He can think about it in the hole. He‛ll have plenty of time.‟

‟That Keller is like an animal." Howell grinned. ‟I wouldn‛t mind having a piece of that!‟

Mineo shook his head and wished again that the prison system wouldn‛t hire girls. ‟Beecher bites, remember?‟

*********

Toby woke up with a start, unsure of where he was until he saw the glass. Fuck. It‛ wasn‛t normal to be knocked unconscious and wake up praying that you were magically transported to another location, but prison will do that to a man.

Keller crouched down next to him, handed him a wet towel, and patted his leg. ‟Okay?‟

‟Fuck no.‟ Toby wiped his face and found the lump on his skull. He wadded up the towel and put it on it. Couldn‛t hurt. ‟I probably have a concussion.‟

‟Half the guys in Em City have a concussion.‟ Keller did not sound sympathetic. ‟They did toss you on my bunk.‟

‟Sweet of them." Toby put his feet on the floor and leaned over. His vision spun around once before it settled. He was sure his eyes had crossed. ‟Who got me?‟

‟SORT nailed ya with a shield bash.‟ Keller went to one knee in front of him. ‟Yer eyes are weird.‟

‟I‛m concussed, not that they gave a shit.‟ Toby wasn‛t worried. If he lapsed into a coma, he‛d be grateful. Keller gave him a gentle kiss. He eased him back down flat, and Toby let him. His guts were thinking about coming out his mouth. ‟You?‟

‟I was lucky. They knocked Robson half the way to the fucking moon, and he landed on top of me. I played the good dog when they pulled him off.‟ Keller was sitting on the bunk. His butt near Toby‛s hip.

Toby didn‛t make the mistake of nodding. ‟You were lucky. I‛m surprised we‛re not in the hole.‟

‟They talked about tossing me. Not sure why they didn‛t.‟ Keller shrugged. He had a bloody lip and a bruise on his face. ‟All the Nazis are in the hole.‟

‟Wow. My lucky day.‟ Dimly, Toby remembered Keller pushing him under the table. ‟Should I thank you or kick your ass for taking that first punch?‟

Keller tugged up his shirt and tried to look at his back. Toby caught a ragged breath at the damage done to him. Fucking damn.

‟The fucker had brass knuckles!‟

‟Yeah. Hurts like hell. He missed yer head. Bam.‟ Keller rubbed his face gently with his own wet washcloth.

Toby took him by the arm. ‟Thanks. Not sure why I‛m worth saving, but thanks.‟

Keller made a rude noise. ‟Stupid fuck.‟ He meant him. Toby was sure of it.

Murphy came through the door without even a knock. ‟Keller, Beecher, get in your own damn bunks!‟

Keller left his side, pulling off his blood-spattered shirt. Toby sat up, swayed, nearly fell down, and groaned like a dying man.

‟Shit!‟ Murphy didn‛t give him a hand though. ‟Okay, fine. Beecher can have the bottom bunk, but Keller, crawl your broken ass up.‟

‟You bet, ya fucker.‟ Keller was being remarkably polite. Toby was thinking far worse than what Keller had said. Murphy stormed away, and Toby laughed weakly. Keller helped him lay back down. He breathed through his mouth until the worst of it had passed. Sleeping was a good idea. If he were lucky, he wouldn‛t wake up.

********

Hank kissed his girlfriend, soon to be wife good bye, and caught up with his two best buddies down on the street. It felt good to be walking and talking, instead of sitting and waiting to be fried. He‛d gotten off, and it was sweet. His friends thought he was a god, and he was.

‟What the fuck we doing tonight?‟

Hank didn‛t give a shit. He leaned against the stoop, found a cigarette, and lit it. Taking a deep drag, he considered whether he should go see his dear, old dad again. Stupid fucker. He‛d be in Oz until he croaked. Hank laughed. He was free, and his dad had given him a wad of cash.

‟Let‛s rob the bodega.‟

Hank pulled the sweet smoke into his lungs. ‟That Pakistani fucker has a gun. Forget it.‟ He wasn‛t getting killed for sixty bucks, which was about all that was in the cash register.

‟Damn. Look at the sweet ride.‟

Hank looked now. It was a 1971 SuperSport, two-door, cherry red, with white leather interior. Damn. That was a sweet ride. They waited until the guy stopped at the light, and then they all moved fast. He never had a chance. Hank took the wheel, revved the engine, and got some good scratch. He was flying high, and he never saw what hit him.

********

They were in lockdown for two days. Toby didn‛t give a damn because he spent most of it sleeping and trying not to moan. Dr. Nathan had been brought over to Em City, and she‛d spent part of one day going from pod to pod. The better half of Keller‛s back was black and blue, but there was little she could do. He did like the sympathy though. Toby also got nothing except the annoyance of the hacks waking him up every three hours. Damn hard to fall into a coma with all the fucking noise! He was glad to hear the lock click on the third morning, but he was almost too tired to stagger out for morning count.

Keller put his hand in the small of Toby‛s back. ‟Still have a headache?‟

‟Yeah,‟ Toby muttered. Brazenly, he leaned against Keller. His knees quivered and he proved to himself all over again what a weakling he was.

Murphy stopped in front of us and frowned. ‟That‛s it. You‛re for the infirmary.‟

Keller gave him a squeeze. ‟Enjoy the pain meds,‟ he whispered. Toby giggled softly, and Mineo took him by the arm and escorted him. Mineo wasn‛t rough, but Toby was weaving by the time they got there.

Dr. Nathan took one look. ‟Why didn‛t you bring him earlier?‟ she snapped.

‟Lock down is lock down!‟ Mineo didn‛t push him down though. He helped him sit on a bed. Gravity did the rest, and Toby was lying flat.

‟Fucking prag is a damn pussy!‟

He‛d know that voice anywhere. ‟Good to see ya, Vern!‟

Dr. Nathan took control of the situation, and Toby was damn grateful for the pain meds.

********

Glynn rubbed his face, put the pictures aside, sighed, and picked them up again. He didn‛t want to deal with this - damn it. Em City had just gotten out of lock down, Ad Seg was full of Nazis, and this was going to be like throwing kerosene on a barbecue grill. They were going to have a real fire on their hands. He stared at the last photo. There simply had to be a way to do this that wouldn‛t incite further violence.

‟Denise, get McManus up here.‟

‟Yes, sir.‟

Glynn leaned back in his chair. ‟I should've been a bus driver like my father.‟

********

Toby woke up one body part at a time - his brain was the last to kick in, and he clamped his lips together so he wouldn‛t groan or moan with Schillinger two beds away.

‟You have an IV in. Be careful not to tug it,‟ Dr. Nathan said.

Toby looked up at her blearily. ‟Is there Jello today?‟

She laughed softly. ‟Hungry, huh? Did you eat at all during lock down?‟

‟Uh, well, no. I was too nauseous. Nothing would stay down.‟ Toby tried to sit up a little, and she helped. ‟Is he restrained?‟ His life might depend on the answer.

‟Yes. He always is. Anyway, he‛s leaving today. Don‛t worry.‟ Dr. Nathan did some doctor stuff, and he ignored the fuss. ‟Toby, you‛re underweight. I want you to start eating.‟

That was easier said than done, but Toby mumbled a lie or two. Schillinger was glaring at him, trying to kill him with his eye. They‛d done a lot of that over the years. Occasionally, the stupidity of it struck him, but usually, Toby wallowed in the anger. Dr. Nathan patted his arm, bringing him back to focus on her.

‟You‛ll be out by tomorrow. Just relax.‟

Toby smiled, but relaxing with a rattlesnake so close would be hard.

*********

Schillinger rubbed his wrists and pointed at Alvarez, ‟You‛re on my list, spic.‟

‟Eat me.‟ Alvarez strutted away, but he was getting it. Schillinger took the offered clothes and changed quickly. His walking cast made it necessary to cut off the lower part of the pant leg, and Dr. Nathan did that. She also handed him a cane.

‟Hey, Vern, ya look like a pirate!‟

Schillinger flipped the prag off and adjusted his eye patch one more time. He had worn it before, but now it was permanent. God damn those Italians. ‟I know you paid them off, Beecher!‟

No answer. Schillinger looked at him, but the bitch had rolled to his side and was ignoring him. Prag was going to end up dead, just like his boy. An eye for an eye. He touched his patch again and growled softly.

‟Come on, Schillinger. They want you in Sister Pete‛s office.‟ The hack was tired of waiting. Schillinger balked at the thought, but started that way. He‛d find out what the hell was going on and then he had prags to kill.

*********

Toby ignored him, but was glad when he was gone. The hospital certainly smelled better without the stench of Nazi in the air. The day passed slowly, and he slept on and off, trying not to think about anything at all. It was very late in the day when Sister Pete came to see him. He worked up a smile for her and sat up a little.

‟How are you, Tobias?‟

‟Better. My head doesn‛t quite feel like exploding now.‟ He wasn‛t lying.

She had a very odd expression on her face. It was one that Toby hadn‛t seen before. She patted his hand, leaned so she was that much closer, and whispered, ‟Hank Schillinger is dead.‟

His heart twisted. The air in his lungs froze, and he was sure that he looked like a fish out of water. There was no reason to doubt her. It had to be true. A tiny voice inside him whispered, ‛See, God does answer prayers.‛

‟Are you okay?‟

Toby blinked, came back into his body, and couldn‛t even nod. There were no words to express the bizarre combination of glee and sorrow that was racing through him. Glee that the fucker was dead, and sorrow that he hadn‛t done it. The guilt wasn‛t his to live with, and it was a damn shame.

‟Yeah,‟ Toby croaked. He didn‛t ask how or why or when. That information was irrelevant. The important thing was that the little sadistic turd was rotting in the ground somewhere. She nodded and he saw her talk briefly with Dr. Nathan. Not long after that, he swallowed his meds like a good boy. Twenty minutes later, the world was a fuzzy place, but he held the truth close to his heart and fell asleep with a smile on his face.

********

Rebadow leaned closer. ‟Are you sure?‟

‟Positive.‟ Busmalis nodded fiercely. ‟Schillinger went postal. Broke his cane over the head of some poor CO. It took four of them to bring him down. He‛s in the pysch ward, heavily sedated.‟

‟God struck him down.‟ Rebadow was glad it had happened.

‟Or all his chickens came home to roost!‟ Busmalis cackled.

Rebadow smiled indulgently. ‟Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord.‟

********

‟Steady on your feet?‟

‟You bet.‟ Toby didn‛t even have to lie to her. ‟The worst of the headache is gone.‟

‟Good.‟ Dr. Nathan smiled. ‟Eat, please, and rest.‟

Toby nodded. The CO rolled his eyes, and Toby got changed quickly. Back to Em City. Back to hell. Toby went straight to the quad, looking for Keller. He spotted him, and they met up near the pod.

‟Hey, Beech.‟

Toby opened the door. ‟Can we talk?‟

He shrugged as if he didn‛t care, but Toby knew he did. Toby waited until the door was shut. ‟I had some time to think-‟

‟Is this where you push me on my ass and tell me to fuck off?‟ Keller interrupted brusquely. ‟We could‛ve played that scene out on the quad!‟

The fervor behind Keller‛s voice forced him to take a step back. Toby ran a nervous hand through his hair and blurted out the truth, ‟Do you forgive me?‟

Keller drew his head back. That was answer enough. No one knew him like Toby did, and he knew the next words out of Keller‛s mouth would be a lie. Nothing but lies. His jaw set and his nostrils flared. ‟Yeah. I do.‟

The lie hung in the air between them, and Toby took a breath, breathing it deep into his lungs. Hank was in hell, and still Toby‛s life was nothing but shit. His son was dead, and the man that he loved was gone. He told himself twice that he had more - that he was more - and he didn‛t believe it. He swallowed the bitterness that he had sown and walked out of the pod.

*********

Adebisi raised his head from his folded hands and watched Beecher slink across the quad to hook up with Pancamo. Little prag had grown a set of balls, but he hadn‛t killed Mondo. No, that was the work of a bull, like Keller or Schillinger. Maybe O‛Reily.

‟We gonna whack the little bitch this time?‟

‟Kenny, he is nothing.‟ Adebisi smiled at his boy. ‟It is Keller that we must watch.‟

‟And Said.‟

Adebisi snorted. ‟I will kill him. Easily.‟

Kenny looked worried, and Adebisi made a vow to see it done.

*********

Toby spent the rest of the day delivering drugs for Pancamo and playing look out. Avoiding Keller‛s burning eyes wasn‛t easy, and he seemed to be around every corner. Whether he was angry or just horny was anyone‛s guess, and Toby wasn‛t going to try. Lunch was the same bullshit as any other day, and he stared at the food instead of the men around him.

‟Hey, Beecher, ain‛t you up for parole this year?‟

Toby looked over at Hill. ‟Yeah. In about six months.‟

‟Damn.‟ Hill rubbed his mouth. ‟I bet you‛ll get it.‟

Keller rolled his eyes. ‟Right. Like they‛re gonna forget he bit someone‛s dick off, was in a riot, and shit on Schillinger‛s face.‟

‟Always a chance.‟ Hill adjusted his gloves. ‟A good lawyer could get you out.‟

Toby shrugged. There was no hope. Keller was right, and the fact that he was smirking about it made Toby want to crack him over the head with a tray. He‛d get out, but not this time. ‟It doesn‛t matter,‟ he said quietly.

‟You glad Hank is dead?‟ Rebadow asked him.

Toby squeezed his orange. ‟Yes.‟ One word was enough. The realization hit home that his parents and his daughter were safe. Or at least safer. He took a deep breath and felt something uncoil in his spine. It was relief. They were going to be okay. As long as they didn‛t come here. Schillinger didn‛t have any more sons.

‟Schillinger is fucking crazy is what I hear,‟ Keller said and laughed. ‟Took them a while to figure that shit out!‟

Everyone nodded in agreement. Toby took his orange, dumped his tray, and went back to Em City. Waiting until the hallway was clear, he ducked under the stairs, found his corner, and sat down to be alone. Parole was nothing to him. Holly was better off without her fucked up father in her life. Harry was in San Diego, and his parents had dealt with his crap for years. They needed a vacation from him. Anyway, he wouldn‛t get it. Not even if he shaved and tried to smile like a normal person. Slowly, he ate his orange and considered everything again. This time, he started at his freshman year in college.

*********

Kenny itched to kill someone. It had been a while. He needed some jizz. Every fucker in here thought he was nothing but Adebisi‛s butt boy, and that was not the fucking truth!

‟Hey, bro.‟

Kenny nodded, but kept on swaggering. He heard the shit going down in Adebisi‛s pod, but he didn‛t give a fuck. He didn‛t! It was the look on Hill‛s face that made him turn. Blood stained the curtains, and as he watched, Adebisi staggered out and fell dead.

‟Said, you fucker!‟ Kenny bolted for the stairs, but Howell shut him down. He didn‛t hesitate to pull the gun that Adebisi had given him. The sound was loud, and he fired again, and again, and again.

*********

Toby responded to the call for lock down but he didn‛t rush. A CO grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him. The CO‛s eyes were wide with panic, and Toby didn‛t struggle as he was dragged into a line and put on his knees.

‟Hands on your head!‟

Toby did it - fast. His mind reeled as he saw pools of blood and bodies. The familiar smell of death was thick in the air. Oz was at her best when men were dying, and today was going to be a banner day. Where was Keller? Toby craned his neck.

‟Where the fuck is Keller?‟

Busmalis shook his head. Toby could only kneel there and hope that none of that blood was Keller‛s. His lies, his smirk, and his annoying tendency to be right: it all seemed inconsequential faced with the real possibility that he was dead. Like Gary. Like Genevieve. Oh God. Toby had been off sulking while Keller was bleeding to death. How many people had to die before Toby learned how to pull his head out of his ass?

‟Get the dogs! Shake down!‟

All the prayers that he‛d said since he‛d been incarcerated burned away and from the ashes arose an epiphany of true faith. In that instant, he knew that God was listening, He did care, but His plan and Toby‛s rarely saw eye to eye. Toby had to learn to be humble, like Said. Humble before God. His will alone. He had to turn loose of the pride that made him think he could control everything. His arms trembled, and he swallowed bile. He had no control, and . . . life would continue as it would.

‟Fuck! Get him out of here!‟

Toby opened his eyes and looked, nearly falling over. It was Keller. Chris. Blood seemed to bathe him, and Toby was running to him before he thought of the consequences. His bright eyes dimmed as Toby dropped to his knees next to him. A CO took a fistful of his hair and yanked, but he held fast.

‟Chris, I love you.‟ Toby had to say it. Keller had to know.

He had the balls to wink. ‟I know that, ya dumb fuck.‟

They put him on a gurney, and all Toby got was a nightstick to the ribs. They took great pride in beating the shit out of him. Back in line, his nose dripped more blood on the floor, and this time they cuffed him tightly.

‟God says you‛re an idiot,‟ Rebadow said.

‟He‛s right too.‟ Toby laughed for what had to be the first time in years. It was Murphy that finally pulled him up, took him to his pod, and removed the cuffs.

‟Beecher, you‛re a damn fool.‟ Murphy rolled his eyes.

Toby wiped his nose with his shirt. ‟Sorry. I had to know. It‛s hell loving him.‟

‟Now that I believe.‟ Murphy left quickly, and Toby heard the lock click. Carefully, he took his shirt off and went to wash. He hurt, but he‛d have plenty of time to heal. Officer Howell was dead as a doornail, and chances were good that they‛d be in lockdown until Christmas.

********

Keller descended into the darkest pits. He smirked as he went until he realized that he was going alone. So alone.

‟Come back to us, Keller!‟

Keller looked over his shoulder and saw a blob of golden light. Toby‛s hair. A flash of blue was Toby‛s eyes, and Keller resisted the pull of the hands that dragged him down. Toby needed him. Him. No one ever had, but Toby did. The taste of ashes clogged his throat, and smoke made it impossible to see. He heard again Shemin begging, and there were others, waiting for him.

‟Keller!‟

He tried to yell, but nothing came out of his throat. Toby. Where was Toby? Keller wrapped his hand into his St. Dismus medal and prayed for one more shot at hope.

********

Toby stood at the glass and watched them mop up the blood. Chris Keller might be dead. Toby chewed the knuckle on his index finger and prayed for him. God would do what he wanted, but it couldn‛t hurt to ask - to beg - for one more chance. Maybe Keller could forgive him. Toby didn‛t deserve it, but Keller might out of love. Between them, there was pain, hate, anger, jealousy, and rage, but there was also love, and more of it than was good for a man. Toby pressed his hands into the glass and prayed. Sleeping wasn‛t possible, and he was glad to see them bringing around dinner. Nothing but a sack with a sandwich and juice inside, but it would give him a chance.

‟Murphy, how‛s Chris?‟ Toby asked breathlessly.

Murphy rolled his eyes. ‟Like I have time to check on your girlfriend!‟ The door shut, and Toby nearly threw the bag the length of the pod. Instead, he took it to Keller‛s bunk to sit and fiddle with it. Keller‛s pillow smelled like him, and Toby tried to calm down. Whatever happened would happen. He had to stay sane.

Lock down lasted and lasted. It seemed terminal. Toby wasn‛t the only one feeling the stress. Several men attacked the CO‛s that delivered the food. It was stupid, but understandable. Every meal, Toby asked the same question, but hope dimmed in his heart. Keller was dead. The knowledge crept over him, and if he thought he‛d been depressed before, he discovered new depths.

‟Beecher!‟

Toby rubbed his eyes, sat up slowly, and looked at him. No words formed. Murphy kicked aside unopened bags of food and put his hands on his hips. He frowned, and Toby wondered if he‛d speak or just stand there scowling.

‟Keller‛s alive. Barely.‟ Murphy shrugged. ‟Eat some damn food!‟

Toby rolled back to the window, holding the words tight to his heart. Keller was alive, and Toby felt tears track down his face. Never again. Never again would he cast him aside. Never again would he lie to himself. He loved him despite everything.

Murphy put some food on the bunk. ‟Don‛t be so fucking stupid, Beecher. He ain‛t worth it.‟

Toby was off the bunk in record time. The smack of his fist against Murphy‛s stupid CO face was satisfying in the extreme. ‟Shut the fuck up! You don‛t know a damn thing!‟

Murphy got up off the floor and shut him down. Toby had no time to rue his decision. The other CO‛s were thrilled to have someone to take their aggressions out on, and he hit the floor of the hole particularly hard.

‟Stupid faggot!‟

Toby stayed down just in case they didn‛t want him up until the door shut. His entire body hurt, but the pain couldn‛t transcend his joy. Keller was alive, and Toby would have one more chance.

*********

Governor Devlin read the latest report from Oz and watched the story on the news for the fourth time. It didn‛t get better with each telling. The lock down in the Emerald City wasn‛t quelling the violence. If anything, the prisoners were more out of control every day. Ad Seg was nearly full. He sighed and threw it aside. Damn prison was nothing but trouble.

‟Can I get you anything, Governor?‟

Devlin smiled automatically. It was what he did. ‟A scotch and water would be nice.‟

She got it without asking why, and he sipped it gratefully as she exited quietly. Glynn was a good warden, but Em City was nothing but trouble. It might be time to put an end to that little experiment. After all, the facts were incontrovertible - those men couldn‛t be rehabilitated by anyone less than Satan, and even he would have his work cut out for him. Devlin doubted that executing a few of them would help. It never did. The ones that were left went about their business of killing as if nothing had happened. Perhaps prisoners were like politicians - they cut their losses easily.

Devlin leaned back in his chair, took another sip, and sighed softly. A parking lot would be more useful than Em City.

*********

Toby was surprised when the door opened to reveal Dr. Nathan. She looked exhausted, and his heart went out to her. She did her best for the lost souls in this prison hell. He nearly giggled at his own melodrama. It was true though.

‟Toby, Jesus Christ!‟ She had a first aid kit with her.

‟I fell. Really.‟ Toby had to make a joke. His lip broke open and bled but he didn‛t care. ‟Is Keller alive?‟

She opened her kit. ‟Yes. It was touch and go, but he‛ll recover.‟ Her gloved hands were steady on him, and Toby was lonely enough to admit that he enjoyed being touched by another human, even with latex between them. She sighed. ‟You‛re a damn mess!‟

‟They were angry,‟ Toby whispered.

‟No shit.‟

He‛d never heard her curse. She must be pushed to her absolute limit. ‟Mineo! I want Beecher in the hospital. Now!‟

Mineo sighed. ‟Shit. He ain‛t all that bad.‟

She flashed to her feet. ‟Bad enough. Do you want another dead prisoner on your hands?‟

‟I‛ll ask for clearance. Put a band aid on him and call it good.‟ Mineo ushered her out; she complained every step of the way, and the door slammed. Toby leaned into the corner and tried not to groan at the thought of a bed. And Keller. Toby might see him. His heart beat faster. Damn, he loved him. It wasn‛t a simple or easy love, but it was very real, and it got him through the days and nights. When lunch was shoved through the door, Toby knew that Dr. Nathan had lost that fight, and he crawled over to the tray to eat something.

They couldn‛t keep him in here forever. He hoped.

*********

Keller coughed and opened his eyes. Life seemed almost too bright to stand, and he shut them again. Maybe later he‛d try to face it.

‟A little better today?‟

Keller nodded for Dr. Nathan. ‟Hey, am I really gonna live?‟

‟Yes.‟ She patted his arm. ‟Toby Beecher would kill me otherwise.‟ She laughed softly.

Now he opened his eyes. ‟Toby?‟

‟He asked about you. I assured him that you‛d live. Don‛t make me look bad, Keller.‟ She examined him, and he didn‛t bother to talk while she had the stethoscope in her ears. ‟Cough.‟

He coughed and winced. It hurt. ‟Toby‛s okay?‟

She wrapped it around her neck. ‟He‛s in the hole.‟

Keller saw the quick flash of a frown. ‟They beat the fuck out of him, didn‛t they?‟ He dimly remembered Toby asking for it.

‟Yeah,‟ she breathed. After a moment, she moved on to her next patient, and Keller tried to unclench his fists. He took a deep breath and wished he could kill them all. Send them to the hell that he‛d so narrowly escaped.

*********

Toby ate every scrap of food sent his way. It tasted like shit, but he had to get strong enough to throw Keller down and kiss him. That required him to eat, and when he felt stronger, he started doing some gentle exercises.

The depression that Toby had grown to love, he shoved aside. Right now - right now - he was going to get well. And then, he‛d see Keller, and then he‛d see what God had in store for him. He‛d been shown the way. He‛d live today, do the best he could, and pray for the rest. There wasn‛t a damn thing he could do to bring Gary back, but he wasn‛t quitting on Holly. He wasn‛t. Keller had been right. Toby did still have things to live for, and he wasn‛t going to throw them away without a fight. And one of those things was Chris Keller.

Toby didn‛t count the days, and he flinched in surprise when the door opened. It was Sister Pete, and he automatically covered his dick. She had the decency to look him only in the eyes.

‟Tobias, how are you?‟

‟Better. Thanks.‟ Toby went as close to the bars as he could without being yelled at by the hack and asked the question that was always on his mind. ‟How‛s Chris?‟

She sighed. ‟He‛s about ready to be released, or so I hear.‟

‟Thank God,‟ Toby whispered. ‟Thank you, God.‟

‟I‛m more worried about you. This last incident probably puts parole out of your reach. Assaulting Officer Murphy?‟

Toby was slightly appalled that he didn‛t even feel guilty about it. ‟He has a big mouth,‟ he said lamely. ‟And let‛s face it, I wasn‛t never going to get parole.‟

‟Not now.‟ She was disappointed in him. He knew it. He‛d seen it all his life. Her shoulders slumped. ‟Your status is in limbo. I‛m not sure when you‛ll be out.‟

Toby swallowed hard. ‟They do have to let me out. Right?‟

‟Theoretically.‟ She wasn‛t joking, and it worried him. ‟Em City has been shut down. Everyone is being moved to Gen Pop or shipped to another prison, depending on the sentence remaining. You might be sent to Rikers.‟

Toby felt the blood rush from his brain. Dizzy for a moment, he sat down, careful to keep his dick under his hand. ‟Fuck.‟

‟Those of you in Ad Seg are being dealt with last. Robson was shipped to Attica yesterday.‟

Toby had a hard time assimiliating the information. God really did have plans that he knew nothing about, and he cringed at the thought of a new prison. ‟Shit.‟

‟I wanted to warn you.‟ She sounded old and tired now.

‟Thank you, Sister. I appreciate it.‟ Toby hesitated to say more, but he did. ‟If you see Chris, tell him that I love him.‟

She made no promises, and the door shut hard. Toby put his head in his hands and refused to cry. A new prison meant that he‛d have to prove he wasn‛t a bitch all over again. Or at least he‛d have to try. He quivered. It was the height of irony that Oz suddenly didn‛t sound all that bad. When the tray arrived, he ate slowly. His guts churned at the potential move. They might send Keller away also. Who knew what the fuckers would do?

When Toby had started drinking and driving, it never crossed his mind that the result would be his life at the mercy of the prison system. They housed them, fed them, beat them, and moved them around willy-nilly. His control issues took on a certain measure of absurdness. He had never been in control. He‛d given it away to booze and men in uniforms. It was ironic that turning the illusion of control loose had been so hard. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes and tried to let it wash away. Life would happen. He had to let it.

********

‟Time to go, Keller.‟

Keller didn‛t waste his breath talking to the hack. He fumbled into the long underwear and then the orange jumpsuit. They shackled him up good and tight.

Dr. Nathan didn‛t look happy. ‟Take care, Keller.‟

‟Sure thing, Doc.‟ Keller smiled for her. He might miss her. His shoulder started to ache from the position of the shackles, but he‛d have to bear it because it would be a long ride to Connecticut. Dr. Nathan had done her best, but his arm was close to useless. She had given him several lectures about physical therapy. He hadn‛t really listened. For the first time in his life, he was weak, and it made him want to puke. He resisted the hack‛s pull and asked her, ‟When you see Toby, will you tell him?‟

She didn‛t meet his eyes, and she walked away quickly. He was no fool. Toby was gone - transferred somewhere else. He could taste ashes and smoke again, and this time, he shuffled along at the pace they dictated. Oz seemed almost quiet as he was went through processing in reverse. He was getting out. He‛d spent a lot of time hating this prison, but he wasn‛t happy to leave.

‟Ready, Keller?‟ Murphy asked. He came out of a back room right as they were getting ready to shove him out the door.

Keller gave him a look. ‟I thought you quit.‟

‟Not yet.‟ Murphy opened the door and took him out to the van. ‟You‛ll like Connecticut. Because of your arm, I insisted that you be sent to a minimum security facility.‟

‟You did that for me?‟

Murphy barked a laugh. ‟I‛m a romantic at heart. All the Irish are.‟

The van doors opened, and Keller hopped up the steps, being careful. He looked to see who he‛d be riding with, his vision clouded over, and he broke out in a smile. Murphy escorted him to a seat and chained him to the floor.

‟Murphy, thanks,‟ Keller said, and he‛d never meant it more.

********

Toby wished he could rub his eyes to make sure that he wasn‛t hallucinating. Murphy chained Keller to the floor right next to him, even though there were empty seats. Toby scooted so they were thigh to thigh. He breathed in the smell of him, afraid to talk. Words had always gotten them into trouble. Keller‛s hand fumbled, and they grabbed hold of each other. Toby had this. Never again. Never again would he pretend it wasn‛t beautiful.

‟I missed you,‟ Keller whispered. His hand squeezed.

‟I love you,‟ Toby said. Not much of an answer, but the best one that he had.

‟Okay, that‛s all of them,‟ Murphy said to the hacks up front. ‟Have a safe trip.‟

‟That‛s it? Two old guys, a cripple, and a skeleton?‟ The hack laughed. ‟I‛m sleeping the whole way.‟

‟I‛m not that thin,‟ Toby muttered. ‟And who‛s a cripple?‟

‟That would be me.‟ Keller didn‛t turn Toby‛s hand loose. ‟The bullet made it so my arm is fucked.‟

Toby was careful not to react. He hated that Keller was hurt, but the last thing he would want was sympathy. ‟Fuckers.‟

Keller smiled at him. ‟Fuck ‛em.‟

Murphy was gone, and the van started moving. Toby looked over his shoulder at Rebadow. He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Busmalis was across the aisle, and he looked tired. Toby focused again on Keller, and he was like a dream. Toby had been alone so long. Murphy was definitely getting a Christmas card this year.

‟You okay?‟ Keller asked softly.

‟Now that you‛re here.‟ Toby didn‛t mind sounding like an idiot to him. The world began to pass them by, and all of them tried to drink it in. Seeing anything was a treat. Nothing but four dirty walls for weeks on end had made the world extra special to him. ‟Hard to believe that Em City is gone.‟

‟Yeah,‟ Keller breathed. ‟Toby, I forgave you.‟

His heart skipped two beats. ‟Thanks.‟ He left it at that. More might seem like he was gloating, and he wasn‛t. He was grateful. ‟Think they‛ll put us in the same cell?‟

‟Not fucking likely.‟ Keller never took his eyes off the scenery, and Toby couldn‛t decide what he wanted to look at more: him or the view. He was sure the ride took a couple of hours, but it didn‛t last long enough, and they were pushing them off. They stuck together through processing, the shower, the haircut, and getting dressed. Toby watched him carefully. His arm looked fine, but it wasn‛t, and he did everything left-handed. He caught him looking once, and Toby bit his lower lip.

‟Come on! Let‛s get this done before lunch!‟

Keller and Toby rolled their eyes and took their state-issued items. They were escorted through the prison, and Toby knew he was staring. It looked almost civilized here.

‟Ten men to a unit. Those bunks are empty. No drugs, no weapons, fuck at your own risk!‟ The hack glared at us. ‟Yard time is a privilege that must be earned with good behavior. Every day without incident earns you ten minutes in the yard.‟

None of them nodded, and they all took a good look around at their new quarters. It was one big room, with a TV at one end, five sets of bunk beds, chairs, tables and a old ratty couch. One door and two barred windows. They all made their bunks, and Toby made sure to get the one over Keller.

He grinned at him. ‟This might not be too bad.‟

‟You look good in blue.‟ Toby winked at him. They would be wearing uniforms in this prison. They were blue, two piece, almost like scrubs. Toby moved in close to him, desperate for a touch, and said, ‟I thought I‛d never see you again, not even in hell.‟

Keller shuddered. ‟Never in hell.‟ He wrapped his arm around him, and they held each other. ‟This is about as close to heaven as I‛ll get.‟

Toby had plenty to think about: his parents, his children, the new schedule here, and more, but all he could do was thank God that he had Keller to hold onto. ‟Chris, let‛s try this again.‟

Keller kissed him, and Toby refused to worry about anything. Tomorrow could go fuck itself. He had today.

*********  
End


End file.
